Gervaise had recommenced sobbing, deeply affected by her husband's grief, and the best of friends with him again.

Yes, he was better at heart than she thought he was.
Coupeau's despair mingled with a violent pain in his head.

He passed his fingers through his hair.

His mouth was dry, like on the morrow of a booze, and he was still a little drunk in spite of his ten hours of sleep.

And, clenching his fist, he complained aloud.